The Diego Diaries: Clubbin' (dd8 367)

=0=At a house in the tower city favored by mini-con villages, Seven Cities-West, City 5

"Rap, rap, rap."

The door cracked open a tad, then a tiny elderly femme looked straight upward toward the faces of a seemingly endless forest of giant mechs. "Who is this?"

"I'm Springer from the Watch, Miss Parcel. May I come in please?" Springer asked.

She stared upward at him, then opened the door. "Come in, infant." She looked at the others with him, then around to the interior of her living room. "We can fit two more of you in here."

Drift and Hercy followed Springer into the apartment which was old fashioned, fanatically clean, charming and filled with mini-con elders. They stood with respect as the ancient ones looked them over.

Miss Parcel, a mini-con legend who was a powerhouse in the community and a repository of lore going back to the Big Bang gestured for them to sit.

The three walked to the open couch and managed to fit its smaller mini-con surface. It was silent a moment as the three mechs waited for Miss Parcel aka 'Cellie' to do 'the honors'.

With a sweetness that flowed from her like honey, she organized tea and cookies, then carried them to the coffee table in front of the three. Asking them their preference, she poured, handed the cups to each and offered them cookies. All of that offered was mini-con sized.

Micro mini-con.

She sat, then grinned at them. "These are my friends and family," she said gesturing to an array of tiny mechs and femmes, some of them bearing markings of the Immortals and all of them bearing age, tattoos, poems and markings of a hard life lived with the usual gusto.

"We're honored to meet you. Miss Cellie is a genuine legend," Springer said with spark felt emotion. "We're always honored to see that so many Immortals made it through. It makes the colony a better place to be."

The elders stared at him with pleasure. This was one tall sumbitch that had manners and knew the right things to say in the moment of formality. Even though the stature divide bothered a lot of mini-cons and the micro variety the most, none of the individuals here seemed weighted down by it.

"We're happy to see you, Commander Springer. I follow the exploits of the Wreckers. I have many friends in our community that were in that group. Some of them from the time of the first leadership," a mech named Tamboo said. He was a square built mini-con mech with the Immortal brand and a lot of carefully preserved dings and wounds from combat. He was one tough looking hombre.

"I was made chief after the death of my own commander, Impactor. Its been a strange ride with them," Springer said with a grin. "I welcomed anyone I could get."

"You're an Immortal," Hercy said as he noted two others including a very pretty and elegant little femme. "I came from Helex and made it to Iacon with Guardian, Delphi and Hard Drive. Where were you?"

"I was at Nova Cronum," Tamboo said. "My bond here, Cellie, was with me. The others, my brothers and my sister were at Polyhex to be worked in the manufacturing district. We were runners and helped sabotage the communications systems of the Enemy."

"Tough work and dangerous. It was all good in the end, brother," Hercy said as he sipped his tea. "In the end, we all were one. For a while anyway."

Cellie nodded. "We're one again," she said. "Delphi is my friend. I was there when he was slated to be sold and Hardie couldn't prevent it anymore. I heard him tell Merrick that this was it, that the time was now or Delphi would have been lost. They never told someone they were going when they were aware. They always deactivated you and then crated you up. I don't think we did the Quintessans enough damage, Hercy. I don't think so at all."

For the next half hour Springer and Drift would listen with amazement of the heroics of the mechs and femmes in the room, their bravery and friendship that had spanned all the oceans of time that they were apart and how they were still together in love and comradeship even now. It would be an amazingly emotional experience for both of them.

=0=Dancing, knocking them back, slapping strangers on the ass, eating junk and bar food, having a ripping good time

Kestrel laughed as Milie told about Prowl as a child, his moody tenacity at not being a 'rich dumb aft' and a 'mech with street cred because I'm going to be a POLICE OFFICER AND ARREST AS MANY OF YOUR FRIENDS AS I CAN!'

That guy.

"My little Prowl. He arrested a few of their kids but the System protected most everyone. It was very hard for a mech with a conscience to live the life we had," Milie said with a sigh. "This life is the only one that I will ever want and need."

"I agree," Laslo said. "What's the word on the Triggers, Milie? When will they grace our space again?"

Laslo was feeling no pain and when he was tipsy the remaining thin veneer of social conditioning to always be aware of yourself in view of others dropped off and his relaxed inner self came out to shine.

"We're getting to the wiring stage of the one that's being built at the Saturn Shipyard. The other is at Ceres being hammered together through the framing process. They have a fabrication center there now that can make anything that a ship wants. It helps lighten the work load here and at the Shipyard. Its a really good system. Mechs and femmes can bridge in and out to work there and the inventory of ships housed in the main off world inventory, many of them commercial is very useful for designing things and even adapting existing vessels. Very clever of everyone. The Naval Architecture Center there is amazing."

"I'll be glad to get them back. I think we're much safer with them here. How do workers get to Ceres?" Laslo asked.

"They have a hotel there and some stay for their work period if they're single but most jump through a ship bridge at the Command Center to one halfway back to Mars. They jump from that stationary ship back to the Port bridge here. Its the best way because the ship is a cruiser and it can send them further but its also doing sensor duty there until some of the system sensor stuff is repaired. The invaders pot shot them in the initial encounter," Miler explained.

"WHO POT SHOT WHO!?" Ratchet asked as he wove his way back from the dance floor with a visibly loaded Prowl in tow. He turned to the winger and helped him sit. "Sit there, bro. You're going to face plant if you don't." He looked around. "GARCON! A ROUND FOR MY BUDDY HERE!" He looked at Prowl, then teared up. "You are my buddy, Prowler. You're my friend. I named a kid after you." He looked around. "THIS IS PROWLER! HE'S MY BUD-!"

That was as far as he got before Ravel yanked him down into a chair. "Sit down, Sonny. You're making a spectacle of yourself."

"That's my Sonny. You take after Ratch. That's what makes you perfect," Corr said as Madura nodded.

"That's our perfect little mech," Madura replied as he sipped a fake drink that Kestrel had ordered for him, he was so loaded. He applauded Ratchet like a grandson even if he wasn't.

"This is a good night out," Edict said as he leaned against Bron-E.

Bron-E had decided to stay sober because Edict wasn't going to. He was going to 'have fun in the sun, hon'. He was a hilarious and uninhibited drunk.

The dance party would go on.

=0=Leaving Miss Cellie's place

The little mech walked between them after having been surrendered to the group. He was sullen but resigned, then he squared his shoulders to walk in the jungle of bigger mechs like a 'stand up dude'. His granny had given him up after the long chat with the Watchmen. They'd determined that the three were 'square up' and would do right by the kid.

Calling him out of the spare bedroom, he walked out with a sullen look of defeat. Miss Cellie and her bond, Tamboo grinned at him. He didn't grin back but hugged them swiftly anyway. Your Nan and Papa were golden even if they turned you over to the coppers.

Reaching the elevator, Springer looked down. "We're heading for Iacon so you can ride with one of us. Just don't fall off."

A look of outrage was lost due to the closing of the door but by the time he had ridden behind Drift to the jail in Iacon, he was expressing an interest in being a horse back patrol man.

So in the end, all was not lost. Mostly.

=0=On the way home

They sang in the Metro every football song they knew, then stumbled out of the cars to walk and or motate toward the Central Labor Hall hotel nearby where many of them were living and all of them would sleep it off. Dropping everyone mostly not related at the front desk to be helped toward their rooms, all of which were thoughtfully secured by Tagg and Kestrel, the rest of the herd stumbled toward their hotel room, the one where the drunkest among them would sleep it off among the fallen carcasses of their bonds.

It would be a crowded living room and hallway in Ratchet's temporary house.

Entering the apartment when Kestrel took over the door handle from Ratchet who was pawing the air trying to grab one of the five he saw rotating in a circle, everyone paused to look around. Laying on the floor, sprawled on every piece of furniture that existed, the room was a veritable wonderland of mech drunkenness.

Tagg helped everyone find a place, watched them fall into a stupor, then turned to Hard Drive who was smirking at them. "I have a room nearby for me and Kestrel, Hardie. Do you require assistance here? This is rather a large group. Perhaps Ratchet can help with a cure."

"Ratchet would shoot us all mustard in the condition he's in. I suppose we could get someone here but they appear to have had a good time," Hardie replied with a chuckle.

"We had a very good time," Kes said. "Ratchet is quite a dancer and Prowl is, too."

"They're both drunk on their afts. The children are fine. If something happens I will call you."

"Do," Tagg said as he and Kes stepped out to go to their room in this, one of the newest and biggest hotels in the colony.

"What would you like us to do, General?" Bron-E asked. Borealis, her bond was sleeping it off nearby and so was her father.

"You can have a berth room in that hallway, Bron-E. The femmes are congregated that direction. I hear Docker is in the jail," Hardie said.

Bron-E grinned. "She is getting to be my hero. She took down a mini-con mech all by herself."

"I'll have to tell you about Docker sometime," Hardie said as he watched Bron-E and Joon hobble toward the hallway.

When all the others were settled, Hardie returned to his chair and shut off the lights. With night vision secured, he settled in to read his novel once more. It would be an uneventful night and wild aft morning soon enough.

=0=Jailhouse

Docker sat in her cell having a great conversation with a number of mini-con mechs who were part of the wango tango at the game. It would pass slowly but amusingly as she told them stories of resistance against the gangs in the ghettos of Iacon. They would look at her with something akin to adoration. Given their love of the game of basketball where it was a kingly thing to hit your target with your throw, her ability to Molotov a building with a flaming bomb was god level skill among them.

Magistrate's Court would be swinging.

=0=TBC 2-14-2022 HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

ESL and stuff:

Hombre: (ohm-bray): a name used in the wild west for a formidable person or someone who was just strong and tough. "Cad Bane is one tough hombre." A suitable fit for someone patterned on a Wild West gunslinger. It might be notable that the wild west type of maniac like him only had about a 20-25 year period to make their mark before trains and 'science' put them out of business. Its a testimony to their power of presence that they're remembered like they are. Some of them were some of the worst people possible and others just gamblers who were fast. Some of the best were marshals and Texas Rangers.